


Finally

by likeastruckmatch



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 13:57:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11715789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeastruckmatch/pseuds/likeastruckmatch
Summary: Molly was sure she knew Sherlock, and there was no doubt she loved him. But when he finally admits his own feelings, she finds herself doubting her ability to withstand the storm that is Sherlock Holmes.





	1. Finally

**Author's Note:**

> I promise this is not a monologue against Sherlock, I just felt as though a relationship with these two would drive both of them a bit round the bend. Until they figured it out obviously. :)

SHSHSHSH

It was… odd.   
Being this centered. Focused.  
Briefly he wondered whether this was how it felt for normal people, those who could only handle a few trailing thoughts at a time before getting overwhelmed.  
Sherlock had survived this long without any breaks in his networks of simultaneous concepts and yet, at this moment, his mind decided to try a new approach.  
Such a transformation was obviously dramatic, but then, the cause of said change could be described as nothing other than revolutionary in respect to the famously stoic Sherlock Holmes.  
No… that wasn’t right.  
She wasn’t a destructive force, she had never meant to change him.  
She was simply a typhoon that had flooded his life, his mind palace, as well as all others she came across.  
He was just, (subconsciously), a little too eager to be swept away.  
And consciously, well (consciously) he was an arse.  
All of his shame, however, flew away in the breeze that carried the tail of his belstaff round corner after memorised corner. It wouldn’t do for him to slink away now.  
Not when they both needed him to step up.

MHMHMHMH

It had been simple in the end. Shockingly simple. Frustratingly simple.  
He had graced her little flat with his presence, the first surprise of many when considering his unhealthy attachment to Baker St. and she had heard his stumbling confessions of love and loyalty and commitment.  
But mostly she heard the tremor in his usually flawless baritone. The scraping of his cuff links on her oak door as he shook with the ferocity of his fear.  
His fear of rejection.   
And Molly had never felt closer to him.

Now, though, as she hung motionless in the heavy London air outside of his window, the door still slightly ajar from her indecision in leaving, she forced herself to consider why.  
Why was she so swept away when he was at his most vulnerable?  
Was it because she wanted to care for him? To love him as they both deserved to be loved?  
Or was she just glad that he felt her pain?  
That she wasn’t alone in her suffering?  
Dear God…   
She’d turned her relationship into a 12-step love struck recovery programme…  
With the man she’d pined over… Suddenly she felt nauseous.   
So much so that all rational thought escaped her as she heard his approaching footsteps.  
And she legged it.


	2. Finite

SHSHSHSH

Sherlock was baffled. A new sensation.  
He’d been confused, of course, almost constantly since he’d become a technically functioning part of society. But baffled… he usually left that to the goldfish.  
He winced at his brother’s words in his mouth, but dismissed it in favour of scanning the road for any more signs of Hooper’s speedy departure.  
She’d baffled him.   
They’d been together for no more than a week when one of his experiments had spilled onto a coat of hers.  
She’d flipped, which made him sigh internally since she barely wore it and actively disliked the way it fit her. But still she’d seethed, almost silently but for the gnawing of her bottom lip as she seemed to stand there thinking, deducting. 

Then she was gnawing no more. She was stood in his flat no more.   
This sigh was audible. He liked how she looked in his flat. He’d thought she did too.  
Clearly not enough.

An ache in his chest bloomed into a full-blown bruise as his heart hammered against his ribcage at the images playing through his mind.  
He’d done something.   
He had no idea what… but there had to be something.  
He trusted Hooper implicitly and knew that, although sentimental, she certainly wasn’t reckless.

If she felt this same tug of… affection, she wouldn’t throw it away.  
She wouldn’t run.   
Feeling a dizzy spell all of a sudden, Sherlock stepped further into the morning mist, and barely registered how he followed the trail of evidence of Molly’s journey.

MHMHMH

The bell clinked as she pushed through the frosted door, greeted by the hearty grin of the café owner.  
It dropped at the sight of her mussed hair and puffy eyes.  
“Alright Molls? We’ve hardly seen you round here these past days… if you want a drink I won’t tell love”  
She nodded a silent affirmation and moved to the farthest booth.

SHSHSHSH

She’d wanted to get away from him, fair enough, but London was a cold and complicated city for an angry little woman with no coat. He squashed the seed of doubt in his head that he just wanted to see her.  
If there was one thing Sherlock couldn’t take right now, it would be Molly’s disinterest in him. Rejection he could understand, he was a selfish prat after all. But the esteemed pathologists stolen glances his way were a staple in his life that he wasn’t sure he could give up, especially if she was going to take all other contact away from him.

He eventually reached the window of her regular haunt and his heart tightened at her obvious distress.  
She clearly maneuvered herself to the corner booth to be alone, but even at this angle he could see the bastard that had gone out of his way to bother her in the otherwise empty café.   
Her polite yet concise answers to any conversation the lanky brunette offered made Sherlock chuckle deeply, but it was cut off when he made to put an arm around the back of her seat.  
The door was barely given a chance to move out of Sherlock's path as he barreled towards the insolent pest and spit a string of expletives, not even bothering with cutting deductions in his effort to rid Molly of the man.   
When he was finally gone, Sherlock stood facing the door, refusing to turn back to the only one who could force him to consider what was a bit not-good. After the fact obviously, baby steps and all that.

Instead, she walked to him, her small frame still managing to fill Sherlock with a sickening dread.

“What gives you the right”

“Molly I-“

“Why did I expect any different? Of course you’d treat me like a belonging.”  
His head snapped up at that  
“Molly? I don’t understand… what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake Sherlock! I drooled over you for years. Day in day out. Why would you have any respect for me? Any trust? This isn’t fair” She waved to the thick air between them. “To either of us… it’s too one-sided”

“Molly, I assure you there’s no-one I trust more”

At this her eyes seemed to soften, but the corners crinkled down in a mournful expression.

“You are a beautiful soul Sherlock, but you trust me like an extension of your arm… I know you don’t see me how I see you”

She began to walk away, leaving the harsh fluorescent lighting for the natural openness of the green, but Sherlock had never felt more claustrophobic as he followed, more helpless.

In desperation, he grabbed for her wrist, halting her movement but not forcing her to look at him.

“Why don’t I get a say in this? Molly? Why aren’t you giving this a chance?” 

She remained motionless and silent. The pain in his chest began to seep through his skin, he tasted it on his tongue and felt it envelope them in a tense bubble Molly seemed adamant on preserving.

“I know you want me Hooper” His desperation curled his tongue and the words came out as a snarl.  
“Why are you denying your attraction?” Sherlock would take her any way she would let him in that moment, but even he could sense the venom in his speech.  
And yet he also felt an inability to stop, to let go.  
So he pulled her in, physicality always being his last resort in any type of case, but this felt like an emergency.   
He held her back to the brick wall.  
The hour made it unlikely for anyone to stumble upon them, but Sherlock doubted he’d realise as he stared into the torrential depths of Molly’s irises and leaned in.  
After his lips met hers, his fingers dug deeper into her side instinctively, frantic to feel her passion meet his own.

MHMHMHMH

This wasn’t right.  
She couldn’t do this. Not with him. For him.   
The carnality of his actions only served to prove his inability to empathise with her most tender of emotions in that moment.   
Still… they also dragged out an unfurling desire that had lay dormant within her for fear of having its head cut off. It was intoxicating and terrifying and electrifying with every caress of his tongue against her already swollen lips.

In that blizzard of sensation, Molly knew it was useless. She would give him everything, whether he demanded it or not.   
The excitement that he might demand such a thing in the first place became distorted by the overwhelming sadness at the realisation of her submission. 

Still she opened her mouth to him and let him explore her. Finding more ammunition for his sick experiments with every passing second she allowed.   
Just as she was about to wrap her weak legs around his torso he pulled his face away roughly, his breath hot on her tingling skin.

“I knew you wanted me…”

And just like that she was sober. 

SHSHSHSH

Her disgust was evident, a devastating turn of events when he’d just found out how beautiful her arousal proved to be. 

When he tried to backtrack her hand flew up, silencing him and rebuilding the fortress around herself and her heart.

“So that’s what we’re doing…” The emptiness of her typically joyous voice was gut-wrenching at best as she stuttered to herself, pottering about the path in search of something he couldn’t identify.  
“…. going for the last word...predictable”

He expected her to carry on this way but she caught his attention when she announced, “…You know what Sherlock?”  
“Molly it wasn’t meant to-”  
“You can have it. You can have the last word. You can have the last laugh. You can have my heart and my vulnerability and my insecurity but please don’t be so cruel as to expect me to enjoy such a violation. I can be accustomed to it but that doesn’t make you any less responsible. You tend to take everything anyway.”

He let her move past him on the street, feeling nothing but an inescapable crushing guilt and sense of loss.


End file.
